


Mary Lost Her Little Lamb

by Mythonik



Category: Dream Daddy: A Dad Dating Simulator
Genre: Angst, Child Death, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, POV Second Person, Self-Blame, please mind the tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-30
Updated: 2017-07-30
Packaged: 2018-12-08 16:35:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11650494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mythonik/pseuds/Mythonik
Summary: You don't know how this could have happened.You don't know why you didn't try a little bit harder.You hear Joseph wailing across the street.





	Mary Lost Her Little Lamb

**Author's Note:**

> Because what the devs said got me thinking of the many ways their relationship could end in tragedy if left the way it is, and partially because what they also said struck a little too close to home for my liking. I can't stress enough to keep the tags in mind - there is no graphic description of anything, only implications, but they may be strong enough for some. All mistakes are mine.

* * *

 

You hear Joseph wailing across the street.

A wail of anguish, of grief, of heartbreak -- you don't know. You only know that no noise like that should ever come out of a human.

Amanda is already out the door before you can even blink, leaving it wide open behind her in her haste to go help and see what's wrong. You feel a flicker of pride in you at that.

You've taught her well.

You can see the rabid commotion outside in the usually so peaceful cul-de-sac from the narrow gateway your front door makes. You spot four police cars, blue and red lights blaring and spinning wildly in the dark of the night, closing off the street and surrounding the two story house of your neighbor. You can distantly make out what looks like an ambulance tucked in haphazardly between two patrol vehicles, its own crying siren silenced after having skidded to a dead stop.

Your feet move seemingly on their own beneath you, and before you know it you are standing just behind the yellow police tape wrapped all around the front perimeter of the property. Amanda stands right beside you to your left, her hand raised to her mouth in what you think is shock as you both survey the convoluted scene.

You turn to watch as the rest of the dads in the cul-de-sac peek out of their houses in equal amounts of surprise. Some, like Craig and Mat, rush over after spotting you, and others, like Brian and Damien and Hugo, briefly shoo their respective children back inside before hurrying over.

From the corner of your eye, you can observe Robert cautiously wandering his way over from between his house and the Christensens, clearly confused and on edge. You wonder why.

Craig asks you what's going on from behind you, clutching a miraculously sleeping River tight to his chest, and you can only shrug helplessly right back at him.

You are just as lost and worried as he and the others are.

Both of you turn back to the scene, where police are pouring in and out of the house, barking orders to each other and whisking the paramedics inside.

You had forgotten the ambulance parked a few ways away from you was there at all.

You turn to your right to look at it, and instead you’re greeted with Joseph kneeling on the other side of the yellow police tape over the hard concrete ground. His hands are clenched into bone-white fists over his lips, knuckles bloody and wounds fresh from possibly having been bashed against the gritty sidewalk again and again. His whole body is hunched in on itself, and his shoulders are quaking something fierce that for a brief second you fear he's about to start convulsing right then and there. From what little you can see by the glare provided by the flashing emergency lights, his skin is pale -- paler than you've ever seen it before -- and his eyes, usually such a pretty blue that sparkled with the light of the sun, were bloodshot and weeping rivers of salt down gaunt cheeks. They stared with a blank sort of desperation at his home, and you turn away when it becomes too much for you to look at when a paramedic gently drapes a heavy, orange blanket over his shoulders and back.

You chance a glance to your left, and almost choke on your own breath when you see Mary standing right beside a cop car. She looks like a mess -- certainly not as bad as Joseph, your brain supplies, but bad enough for you to do a double take. Her normally pressed turtle neck is wrinkled and stained with something dark all over, and her impeccable makeup is now smeared out of place on her. No wild night of drinking between you, her, and Robert had ever done this to her, so you are understandably unsettled by her appearance.

But what mostly catches your eye was not the state of her clothing or even her distraught expression, but rather the state of her hands. Or, more specifically, what’s wrapped around each of her thin wrists.

The orange rays of the streetlight directly above her and the cop car glitter off the silver handcuffs slapped over her wrists, and you nudge Amanda and Craig beside you so they can look too.

Before they can turn to see the silently weeping Mary, though, surprised shouts from the direction of the house have you all wrenching your eyes back around to focus on the wide open front entrance.

Police officers are fumbling to catch three blond bullets nimbly dodging their reaching hands, but give up once the children step outside and dart across the lawn. Christian and Christie are clutching onto each other's hands, terrified looks twisting their little faces into something ugly and tears dripping off their chins. Chris is bringing up the rear behind them, making sure they aren't being followed by anyone and throwing distrustful looks at anyone whose hands wander too close.

You watch Joseph uncurl from his fetal position just long enough to open his trembling arms for all three of his kids to throw themselves at him. They bury their faces against his chest and he folds back over them immediately, wrapping his arms around the three and holding them tight. The ends of the heavy blanket atop of Joseph slip over his shoulders and onto the children, covering them mostly from your view.

Two men and a woman in blue-green paramedic shirts hurry out of the house. One man kneels besides the sobbing family, and you think he's probably whispering something to Joseph as a distraction while the other two haul the wheeled stretcher out of the ambulance’s back section. The loud crack of the wheels snapping into place jar Joseph from his stupor, and you watch him turn to face the man beside him.

Through the cacophony of sounds you see the paramedic say something about the children and the hospital. You watch the way Joseph’s bloodshot blues waver over to a cop now standing beside the paramedic, and the cop gestures to a patrol car parked about three feet away from them. The blond partially nods, nudges the children from his chest, and starts to usher them over to the officer to where he stands beside the open back door.

Amanda's short scream of horror snaps your attention back to her. She's not looking at you or anyone, her horrified eyes stare straight ahead and her hands are slapped over her mouth.

You turn to look.

You wish you hadn't.

The two paramedics you saw wheel the stretcher inside are now coming back out with it between them. You make out their faces to be somber, but you don't pay them much attention.

You stare at the stretcher.

You stare at the small bundle that lies motionless atop it.

You stare at the little right arm sticking off the edge, too short to properly hang off the side.

The world slowly mutes around you. You feel like you're underwater, but you also feel like you're floating.

You don't know what to feel.

You turn to your left.

Mary is crying harder now. Trails of mascara are running down her face and her fingernails are digging into her cheeks. You watch how she turns to Robert, who is standing closest to her behind the tape and looking strangely guilty, then to Joseph, who you blearily see is struggling against the hold two officers and Brian have on him, and finally to the stretcher that is halfway across the lawn by now.

Sound returns to you in a flash, and you almost stagger back into Craig with the hard assault of noises that barrage you.

Amanda cries, arms wrapping tight around your waist and face hiding against your side. Damien leans heavily on Hugo's shoulder, pale skin as white as a sheet and eyes devoid of any emotion other than clear grief. Hugo is clenching his jaw and doing his damnedest to not break, but you see he's always a second away from falling. Mat covers his eyes and turns his back on the scene. He trembles just as hard as you do, or maybe even worse. You don't know. You can't move to check on him with Amanda holding onto you. Craig clutches a bawling River with all his might onto his chest. You've never seen him cry, not even when he broke his arm back in college, but there he is, sobbing and dripping salty tears onto his daughter's messy hair.

His baby daughter.

 

His baby daughter who's just a few months younger than Joseph's toddler.

 

The very same toddler you all know is on that gurney.

 

You don't know how, but everyone in the cul-de-sac does.

 

You turn to your right.

Joseph’s hysterical. He's struggling against Brian's hold now, and you notice the two officers from before now have bite marks on their hands. You distantly recall Robert saying something about Joseph and biting once in one of your merry nights at the bar, how you think you all laughed back then, but you can't remember at the moment.

You _don't_ want to remember at the moment. 

You hear Joseph screaming in-between heart wrenching sobs. He's screaming at Mary, at Robert, at the medics, at anyone who can hear him. You don't know what he's saying, but the cracks in his screams and the watery tone of his voice have your own heart breaking and reaching out to him.

You turn to Mary again.

An officer, a different one, is gently guiding her to sit on the back part of the patrol car. You see her act more pliable than you have ever witnessed before, and you don't know if it is that behavior that scares you the most or the way she just stares out the window after the cop closes the car door behind her.

The paramedics had since reached the ambulance in the meantime, but you don't linger a moment longer to watch them hoist it inside.

You feel like you're not inside your own body even if you are aware of your hand shaking Amanda slowly. She looks up, eyes swollen and watery, and you tilt your head in the direction of your house. You watch her go, stumbling on too weak knees, and you turn to put a hand on Craig's shoulder. He snaps out of his stupor and looks at you.

You waste no time in pulling him away from the scene and across the cul-de-sac towards his home. You still feel like you're walking in a separate dimension parallel to this one even as you coax him inside, where his twins promise you that they will look after him and River.

They don't ask questions.

You don't think you're ready to answer any, anyway.

You make your way back to your own home. Your mind is in a pandemonium and you feel a lump lodge itself on the back of your throat.

 _Why_ did this happen?

 _What_ happened?

 You knew Joseph was out late working in the church. You saw Mary at Jim and Kim’s earlier and asked her who was with the children, since you knew that tonight was her turn to stay with the kids.

You remember her telling you and Robert how she couldn't stand looking at the children anymore. How they reminded her too much of _him_ for her to bear, so she had called their usual babysitter to come in and that was that.

You three had shared drinks and stories like usual, but you had left early because Amanda had called and told you she wasn't feeling well, and asked if you could pick up some pain medicine on the way home for her to drink. Like the good father you are, you had complied and bid your drinking buddies a goodnight.

 

Maybe you should have pressed Mary more on the subject when she had ignored the call from the babysitter to her phone.

 

Maybe the babysitter was busy and couldn't get to the kids that night.

 

Maybe the three children were alone with Crish in the too big home.

 

Maybe the three children had _seen_ what had happened to Crish.

 

Maybe, maybe, maybe…

 

Maybe you should have really tried harder to talk Joseph into pursuing the divorce.

 

Maybe that way Crish would still be alive right now.

 

You stumble into your front door before opening it fully and fall in a sprawl on the living room. Amanda rushes over to you and cries -- when did you even start crying? -- with you on the floor.

 

The door is still wide open.

 

You hear Joseph wailing across the street.

 

* * *

 


End file.
